The Art of Peer Pressure — текст песни

Me and my niggas four deep in a white Toyota

A quarter tank of gas, one pistol, and orange soda

Janky stash box when the federales roll up Basketball shorts with the Gonzales Park odor

We on the mission for bad bitches in trouble

I hope the universe love you today

'Cause the energy we bringing sure to carry away a flock of positive activist a filthy body would hate

If it’s necessary

Bumping Jeezy first album looking distracted

Speaking language only we know, you think is an accent

The windows roll down all I see is a hand pass it Hotboxing like George Foreman grilling the masses

Of the working world, we pulled up on a bunch of working girls

And asked them what they working with look at me

I got the blunt in my mouth

Usually I’m drug-free, but shit I’m with the homies

(Yea nigga, we off a pill and Remy Red

Come through and bust ya head nigga)

Me and the homies

(Sag all the way to the liquor store

Where my niggas pour up 4 and get twisted some more)

Me and the homies

(I ride for my mothafuckin’niggas

Hop out, do my stuff, then hop back in)

Me and the homies

(Matter fact, I hop out that mothafucka and be like

«Doo! Doo! Doo! Doo… Doo! Doo! Doo! Doo! Doo!»)

It’s 2:30 and the sun is beaming

Air conditioner broke and I hear my stomach screaming

Hungry for anything unhealthy and if nutrition can help me

I’ll tell you to suck my dick and then I’ll continue eating

We speeding on the 405 passing Westchester

You know the light skin girls in all the little dresses, good Lord

They knew we weren’t from 'round there

'Cause every time we down there we pulling out the Boost Mobile sim cards

Bougie bitches with no extensions

Hood niggas with bad intentions, the perfect combination

Before we sparked a conversation

We seen three niggas in colors we didn’t like then started interrogating